


The Now

by orphan_account



Category: Cinderella 2015
Genre: 20th Anniversary, Children, F/M, Love, Marriage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-20
Updated: 2015-06-20
Packaged: 2018-04-05 06:57:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4170324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It hardly seemed like twenty full years since Ella had walked down the steps and into the ballroom, surrounding by a floating galaxy of a watercolored sky, couldn't believe that so much time had gone by. It was evident in the height of their children, in the grey hairs in Kit's hair he denied existed and in the laugh lines on Ella's face, but otherwise the couple would never have believed it had been so long.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Now

Invitations had been sent out, months prior, inviting all the common folk and the dignitaries of the surrounding kingdoms to a ball, celebrating the twentieth anniversary of the ball that was held to find a prince an eligible wife, and found there a maiden fairer than the day with a pair of glass slippers adorning her feet. 

It hardly seemed like twenty full years since Ella had walked down the steps and into the ballroom, surrounding by a floating galaxy of a watercolored sky, couldn’t believe that so much time had gone by. It was evident in the height of their children, in the grey hairs in Kit’s hair he denied existed and in the laugh lines on Ella’s face, but otherwise the couple would never have believed it had been so long. 

Ella wore her glass slippers with a sense of exhilaration and nostalgia, though her dress was as gold as the pure metal (not blue), but her hair was arranged in a similar style and in her regal glory she looked - from the onlookers in the upper galleries - alike to a walking sun beneath the candlelight. She was glowing, and though she was near forty she looked nothing like her age, as she flitted in and out of the ballroom, waiting for her family to arrive and for them to make their official appearance together. Kit had agreed, with some debate, to ensure the children were ready for the celebrations and Ella feared he was going to take longer than planned to do so. 

Only the common folk and nobles that originated from the kingdom were in the ballroom already - the monarchs and their companions waiting in the hall for their signals - and so the Queen felt well at home in the crowds, mingling as best she could without one of the scouting ambassadors recognising her as they waited for the official arrival. The advisors and such should have, if they had some etiquette, remained behind closed doors with their sovereigns until it was time for them to appear, but so few had any manners and they spent the time before the ball snooping about and cornering people in possession of power. 

Then the Grand Duke, who had been standing to the side overseeing the gathering with the watchful gaze of a former guardsman, had an attendant approach him and he indicated to Ella, giving her the signal. With a nod, Ella politely excused herself from a conversation she was genuinely interested in - Kit always said he loved how Ella was honestly intrigued by topics so many other noblewoman would declare menial or dull - and passed behind a relatively concealed archway and into a side room. 

That side room just so happened to be the very one Kit had lead Ella into the night of the ball, and the portrait of him on horseback remained there (despite his ill feelings towards it), along with one of Ella that had been painted a month or so after her wedding and coronation. Ella admired a family portrait of herself, Kit and their children, commissioned sometime after their youngest turned four, hearing the oncoming footsteps of the figures depicted on the canvas. 

At forty, the King still cut a clean and elegant figure as he reached her side, planting a tender kiss on her cheek as he wrapped his arms about her. This action, however, brought an onslaught of groans and general ‘ugh’-ing from her husbands assorted companions. Ella could almost see Kit’s eye roll as they turned to face their children, and - while Ella didn’t know what she was expecting - she wasn’t expecting the sight that greeted her.

Christopher, at seventeen, looked the very image of his father and every inch a prince, and Ella felt her heart swell with pride and her eyes, which were so very much like her own, well up with tears of motherly love. This was her firstborn, her beautiful little boy that she and Kit had made through their pure and utter love for one another, and in her eyes he would always be the baby boy that Kit had carefully handed her after hours and hours of pain, of fear, of worry. And he was still Critter, the small, mischief making toddler that had been petrified of thunder and loved to chase cats and all manner of things across the palace. He no longer cared for the nickname, and grew embarrassed when his parents called him that, but he was all a helpless baby, a troublesome toddler and a regal looking prince to his loving parents. 

Aenor wore deep, deep blue and a gold that echoed the royal colours of the land, her hair imitating her mothers and eyes sparkling. There was a cool collectiveness about the princess, an understated elegance and grace that had always surrounded her - even as she had ran about the fields surrounding Ella’s childhood home as a little girl or thrown mud at her brothers as a sly child (though she still did such things when the opportunity arose). And she had a heart as big as her mind, which they were reminded of everyday with her witty comebacks and well timed jests that humiliated her elder and little brother alike, in the kindest possible way. At fifteen, she was the perfect balance between her parents, though she would have disagreed vehemently. She had always wanted her hair to be like her much beloved mothers, kissed by the sun and shining, but it had been (initially) dull and black and she had loathed it. As time passed, however, it had begun to lighten and now it was a dark blonde. She was gorgeous and nearly grown up, and Ella ached for the time she had carried her and for the years she could hold her with one arm. 

Marcus was the definition of a thirteen year old, and that is your definition is unflattering. He was kind and courageous, indeed, but his mind was set on tormenting his siblings as best he could and, while he would eventually grow out of it, for the present his parents refused to trust him with such simple a task as not making a fool out of Christopher or Aenor in public. However, Ella was grateful to see he looked the part in his finery that, again, matched the royal colours of their house and the apparent well behaviour he was exhibiting for the time being. He gave a mock bow to break the illusion, but smiled sweetly for Ella to allow his incursion. He had always been like that, even when he was a baby, full of laughs, sarcastic responses and a need to prove himself that resulted from having such parents and siblings. He also completely idolised every single family member he had, from the obvious role models of his parents and Christopher to little Lily he loved them all.  

Then there was Lily. The youngest, shiest and most adorable of the children, Lily smiled more than she breathed and laughed more than she talked, never failing to make someone feel happier about the world they lived in. And she looked so pretty, like a little flower only just finding out what bloom was, standing with her skinny arms slightly swaying as she attempted to stay still. Marcus could scowl at Christopher (which he did more often than spoke to him), could refuse to look at Aenor for a week (which was a struggle, but he once accomplished the show of immature passive aggressiveness), might even throw a tantrum with his father and once or twice had a cross word with his mother, but had never in his life been irritated with his sweet little sister. 

“You look beautiful.” Ella had breathed, more terrified of the prospect than she realised. 

“You all do.” There were tears in her eyes as she spoke, not entirely sure what she should do. All she wanted to do was hold them in her arms, though she would never be able to do so all at once again. Christopher smiled to reassure her, Aenor blushed and looked to her feet, Marcus gave another feigned bow of gratitude, hand over heart, and Lily giggled and scurried over to her mother, whom she promptly hugged. 

“You look beautiful, too.” The eight year old answered, and Ella hugged her back with all the strength she had. 

“Come on.” Kit prompted gently, brushing her shoulder. “They’ll be waiting.” He offered his arm to her and she obliged instinctively, clutching onto her Kit’s arm like it was her lifeline, suddenly petrified of the advancing speed of time. The precious sight of her two youngest soon followed that of Christopher offering Aenor his own arm, and then they passed out of the room and into the hall, up the hidden stairs to the golden embellished steps of the ballroom and Ella could not help but wonder at how she had come from this exact place in time twenty years prior, to now. Sensing her thoughts, ignoring the eyes below them and propriety both, Kit leaned closer to his wife and layed a kiss on her forehead and whispered familiar words into her ear. 

“I love you, My Queen.” And Ella knew that she wanted the now to become the forever. That, it so happens, is the best part of fairytales. The now is the infinite.


End file.
